


Snowed In

by Hoisted



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, California, F/M, Getting Together, Lake Tahoe, Road Trips, San Francisco, SanSan Secret Santa, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoisted/pseuds/Hoisted
Summary: This is a SanSan Secret Santa gift for @Nevermore_Red for the prompt, "Snowed In."Sansa's alone on Christmas Eve, until Sandor, the strong silent type, shows up on a mission to chauffeur her from San Francisco to Las Vegas in time to celebrate the holidays with Joffrey Baratheon, aka DJ Joffz (ick). Where will the night lead?Give me a bit to get all the chapters up!
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevermore_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/gifts).



> TW - depiction of domestic violence.

Prologue 

Tuesday December 18 

4:00pm 

“Joffrey! No! I’m in the shower! Not now! Put the phone down, please!?”

Sandor could hear the little bird’s pleas as soon he entered Joffrey’s well-appointed one-bedroom in Russian Hill. The place was expensive, but certainly not soundproof. He snorted at the “please” part. Since when had  _ please _ ever stopped Joffrey?  _ Not the last time, or the time before _ Sandor thought.  _ You should know that by now, little bird.  _

The voices continued, muffled through the walls. 

“Come on, don’t be such a prude,” Joffrey continued. “Drop the curtain and tell the viewers to smash that like button.” 

“Joffrey, no… come one. Just let me put my clothes on.” 

Sandor’s heart pumped harder and his hand twitched against the pocket of his jeans. So Joffrey was filming something for his channel, was he? And the boy was willing to give random internet strangers a prurient look at his own girlfriend, eh? Well, the boy was a brat, but at least he wasn’t totally stupid. Of course viewers, men especially, would rather look at a creature like Sansa Stark than a punk like “DJ Joffz.” Sansa Stark was…. well, she was good to look at. But still, it didn’t sit well with Sandor.  _ Be smart enough to back off, Joff,  _ Sandor thought.  _ Don’t make me have to to intervene.  _

Sandor shut the apartment door hard behind him, hopefully loud enough for Joff to notice. The kid could sometimes control the worst of his impulses when he knew he was being watched. He cleared his throat and announced, “Mr. Baratheon, the car’s been pulled around.” 

“Yeah, babe. Phone’s off. Come out and put your clothes on.” Sandor’s pulse returned to normal.  _ Thank fucking God.  _ Sandor was employed by the Lannisters as “security” for the scion of the family, but more often than not, he was a glorified babysitter, trying to protect Joffrey from ending up with criminal charges. 

He heard the shower curtain swing open. Sansa was murmuring something, but she’d calmed down and her voice was too low to hear through the walls. Until…

“Psych! I’m live streaming! Show the world the ass that DJ Joffz taps!” 

Sansa Stark screamed. 

_ Oh God. Fucking Idiot.  _ Sandor was going to have to step in. Stop the boy. Calm the girl. Call Tywin or Tyrion. Sort this mess out. 

He was at the bathroom door in less than a second, knocking cop-style on the door. “Mr. Baratheon? Ms. Stark?” 

“Hey, watch it!” Joffery exclaimed. “That’s the 11, you bitch!” 

_ Plunk!  _ The sound of Joffery’s cell hitting the toilet bowl. 

Sandor opened the door just in time to see Joff’s fist connect with the side of Sansa’s face. The girl crumpled to the floor, the back of her head thudding against the side of the tub. 

“Fuck you!” Joffrey frothed, bending over to get right in her face, although her eyes had glazed over on impact and she barely looked cognizant of her surroundings. Her right hand clutched feebly at the towel she was wrapped in, the other groped for support on the cold tile floor. Her eyes flitted up to meet Sandor’s.

“Ugh, it’s you, Dog. Deal with this mess,” Joffrey said coldly. The boy turned to leave. “I better not see her when I come back.” And just like that, the boy was gone, slamming the apartment door behind him, no sign of remorse or care towards the injured girl left lying on the bathroom floor. 

And once again, Sandor was left alone with Sansa Stark. 


	2. Chapter 2

December 24

8:00 AM 

“Hurry up now, Shireen. Our Uber’s waiting.” No Christmas cheer for Stannis Baratheon, that was for sure. He was glowering at his blackberry in the foyer of his grey SoMa penthouse, no holiday decorations in sight. His wife, Selyse, stood next to him, toe tapping, and frothing to get out the door. 

Sansa gave Shireen a quick squeeze and slipped a fun sized bag of M&M’s into the younger girl’s coat pocket. “Have fun in Costa Rica!” Sansa worked as Shireen’s live-in nanny, but as the girl grew, she was more like a companion to fifteen year old. Shireen didn’t really need a nanny, but perhaps the Baratheon’s felt bad letting Sansa go. So Sansa stayed on, spoiling the girl when she could. 

“Oh, it won’t be  _ fun,  _ Sansa,” corrected Selyse. “The process of Synchronization is spiritually rigorous and only the strong can embark on a new level of self-discovery.” 

Sansa nodded and tried to look pensive, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the room. “Synchronization” at Melisandre’s Costa Rican compound came at the price of one thousand USD a head and a commitment to “sustaining a red aura” while on the premises.

It was...awkward...to be employed by people who had more or less joined a cult. Selyse was full of the fervor of the recently converted and she jumped at any chance to talk about her new beliefs. Poor Shireen. At least she had been able to talk Stanis into taking a day off of “resonating” at their guru’s compound to plan a trip to a sloth sanctuary nearby. 

“Maybe next year you’ll be invited, too, Sansa,” Selyse continued. “Just listen to those podcasts I’ve recommended and work on your frequency and vibrations. Your aura is just too purple right now and you wouldn’t synchronize at all, even if you tried.” 

“Sure, well...I hope you reach...fulfillment and...,” it was always so hard trying to find the right thing to say, but it didn’t actually matter anymore. The family was out the door, Shireen mouthing a stealthy “Thanks for the candy!” behind her parents’ backs. 

“...and Merry Christmas,” she finished lamely. And now she was alone. Alone on Christmas Eve.

She hugged her robe a little tighter around her thin shoulders and shuffled to the living room. 

Alone. Ugh. Any other day, Sansa wouldn’t have minded. It was a privilege to have a little alone time in the Baratheon’s penthouse. The common areas were floor to ceiling windows and the view from the corner of Folsom and Beale was gorgeous. One direction, and she could look out over the Bay Bridge and the other, she could see the gleam of Millennium Tower. The gorgeous view made up for Stannis’ Spartan taste in decor. On a good day, Sansa loved nothing more than to lay back in Shireen’s LovSac, Stannis’ one concession to comfortable furniture, and admire the city, the bay, the beautiful surroundings… but today was Christmas Eve, and it wasn’t supposed to be this way. 

She had meant to spend the holidays with Joffrey in Vegas, but that was before things had turned sour. Well, they’d been turning sour for awhile, but last Tuesday had been bad. So bad, the thought of it still left a sick feeling in her stomach. If Clegane hadn’t been there…..

She hadn’t spoken with Joffrey since the incident. Not to forgive him. Not to end things. She just hadn’t called, texted, or smashed “like” on any of his posts. Margaery Tyrell’s perfectly contoured face had been featured in the thumbnail of Joff’s most recent upload. Sansa supposed her relationship was over now, no words needed to be said. 

Still, it didn’t feel right, to leave things like this between them. Joff had been her childhood sweetheart. They’d been more or less together since she was around Shireen’s age, five years! Shouldn’t they talk things out? Shouldn’t she tell Joff she wanted to love him but that he needed help? Wasn’t it her duty, as his girlfriend, to correct whatever dangerous course Joff was heading down? And hadn’t it been just a little bit her fault? She hadn’t backed down when she saw the anger in Joff’s eyes. In fact, the expression on his face had only made her feel more like lashing out. He’d warned her to stop, but she just couldn’t at that moment. She’d grabbed his cell and hurled it into the toilet. Shouldn’t she apologize? 

And what had happened after. Well, she’d been left alone with Sandor Clegane, and not for the first time. He always seemed to be the one to step in when Joffrey lost control. The man had a gentle touch with her, despite what his overabundance of muscles would make one assume. 

She’d gotten to know him just a little bit in the time she’d dated Joff. He wasn’t much of a talker, unless he was drunk. And she hadn’t seen him drink since that one time. When he’d told her about his scars. Since that time, maybe about a year ago, he’d pretty much avoided talking to her. She didn’t see why. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. There were shitty people in everyone’s family, after all, weren’t there? She’d tried to tell him that once, the time Joff had done some lame broken glass prank for his channel and she’d ended up needing stitches. Sandor was the one to take her to urgent care. She had started reflecting on dating, relationships, and so on. She couldn’t remember exactly what led up to it, but she remembered she’d asked Sandor if he had a girlfriend. She’d told him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed of his face, that he was perfectly handsome as is, and would have so much to offer a woman. He was fit, had a job, and could even be easy to talk to, when he wanted to be. And he wasn’t  _ that _ old. Probably right at 30. Plenty of time to get on Tinder, find someone, use all his advantages to woo some lucky girl...

And then Sandor had told her to shut up. 

She’d never brought up anything like that again. On Tuesday, when Sandor was tasked with taking care of her, she’d been almost silent the whole time. Just saying, “please” and “thank you,” as he helped her up, found her clothes, and asked her where she wanted to go. 

“The apartment on Folsom, please,” she’d said. He’d offered to take her all the way to Seattle to her parent’s place, but she’d looked at him dumbfounded for a bit before refusing. All the way from San Francisco to Seattle? In his Lannister provided G-Class? Maybe she’d hit her head harder than she thought. 

The whole affair had left her cranky and exhausted. 

She plopped down into the LoveSac, her own cell in her hand. She idly thumbed through her contacts, momentarily considering calling her younger sister. Arya _ hated _ Joffrey and would be incensed on Sansa’s behalf.  _ But it’s Christmas Eve…. _ Sansa couldn’t forget.  _ Why drag her down with me on the holidays?  _ Arya was off on a ski trip with some of her college friends. Her parents were in New York, visiting her two oldest brothers. The younger boys were in Cabo sport fishing with their Uncle Brynden. Of course, Sansa had been invited to all these happy family trips, but she’d said no, wanting to support Joff at his set at the Sahara Hotel pool party. 

And that’s why she was alone on Christmas Eve. Well...she could take advantage of the alone time using Selyse’s Peloton? It sat facing the wall length window, the same stellar view as the LovSac. Yes, that was it. Endorphins to lighten the mood. And then she could binge on some UberEats and then work it all off on the Peloton again. 

Sansa wasn’t the world’s best athlete, but she was a great team player. While she wasn’t the strongest, she was tall and had okay stamina. And she worked hard. She’d been on the volleyball team at CalPoly, before she’d dropped out at Joff’s encouragement. She’d meant to start taking classes at one of the many colleges in the city, but she’d never gotten around to it, she’d been kept so busy tagging along with Joff’s many engagements. Still, she liked to keep in shape, just in case she wanted to join a local league or something. So free and unlimited access to the Peloton was the perfect antidote to a shitty day. She pulled her hair back, changed into shorts and a sports bra, and started riding. 

***********************************************************************************************************

  
  


11:00 AM 

Sansa was back at it. Pedaling furiously, her earbuds blasting the music in her ears, as she pushed herself to stay with the rhythm. This time, she’d chosen a 90’s themed class which promised to, “bring on the Jams...and the burn!” It certainly seemed to burn a lot more this time around. She’d taken a break to get some waffles delivered, and she was feeling more than a little sluggish.

She mumbled along to the lyrics for motivation. “ Wild Wild West, Jim West, desperado, rough rider…..” 

_ Bzzzzzzzz!  _ A notification popped up on her cell. Someone was on the street level waiting to be buzzed up.  _ But my waffles already came….  _ She thought, hauling herself off the bike to check the intercom in the foyer. 

“Hello?” She said cautiously, into the intercom. 

“Hey, you ready to go?” 

That  _ voice.  _ Gravely and to the point. It was Sandor Clegane. 

“Huh?” Sansa was dumbstruck. Surely, she wasn’t still invited to Vegas, was she? “I didn’t think….”

“Yeah, Joffrey called me an hour ago to tell me to take you to Reno. The Gulfstream’s there and we’ll take it to Vegas. Didn’t he tell you?” 

“Well, no...I’m not ready,” she hesitated. Was she still expected to go? What would happen when she got there? Was Joffrey trying to pretend like nothing had ever happened? Was this another one of his jokes?

“How long will it be?” Sandor was clearly impatient. “Buzz me up.” 

“Sure just, um… well let me put on some clothes, okay?” God, the man had already seen her wearing too little. Her Christmas Eve had quickly gone from lonely to embarrassing. 

  
  


**********************************************************************************************************


	3. Chapter 3

December 24

12:30 pm 

  
  


Things became less awkward once she’d settled Sandor with a spare waffle and sent him to the living room while she readied herself. 

“You don’t have to go, you know,” he’d said to her upon walking through the door, noting her sweaty appearance and flushed face. “You okay?” His eyes had lingered a bit too long on her face, which she knew was tomato red from the exertion. His appraisal only sent more blood to her cheeks. It was times like this she hated being a ginger. 

Sandor was a big man, perfectly fit, but actually, Sansa had never seen him sweat. Sandor was always put together. Never unkempt. Black slacks, a white shirt, leather jacket - the uniform of a Lannister man. Sandor’s must be bespoke, considering his size. His brown hair was longish, and swept to the side. Probably an attempt to cover the scars. He was normally clean shaven, but today he had the slightest hint of a five-o-clock shadow. In fact, his eyes looked a bit puffy, as if he had a hangover. She was glad of it, because honestly, there was nothing worse than hanging around a Roman statue when you felt like shit yourself. 

“No, I’ll go. I mean, we had plans.” It was true. Joff had booked this gig at the Sahara ages ago. Well, it was his Uncle Tyrion’s hotel, so it’s not like it was some big honor. But still, a plan was a plan. And maybe seeing Joffrey face to face, to make up or break up, would make the sick feeling in her stomach go away. And why had Joff sent for her anyway? Was this his way of saying sorry? Had all this stuff with Margaery made him realize that _Sansa_ was the one for him? Was he in Vegas, feeling just as shitty as Sansa, realizing that he couldn’t throw five good years in the trash without a fight, or at least, a goodbye? Well maybe they could hash things out...

“However you want it,” Sandor shrugged, a stoney, inscrutable expression on his face. 

So she’d prattled on about the Peloton, showering, and packing as she practically threw a waffle at him. She’d showered in record time and then wrestled with the blow dryer. Her hair was simply too long and thick to dry and style completely without dedicating a full forty minutes to the ritual. She gave up after about ten minutes, braided it, and swept a handful of cosmetics into a travel bag. She’d have to make herself presentable on the Gulfstream. 

And now it was a matter of what to pack. She’d have to have some outfits planned for each outcome…one set of things if her and Joff split and another set for if they stayed together. The “breakup” set was easiest to pack. Just an extra sweat shirt and leggings for a return flight to the Bay. The “stay together” set required a little more thought. 

There was a lot that went into making Joffrey happy. La Perla, Louboutins, more La Perla…. Not to mention she’d need at least a couple of bikinis. She spread everything she owned on her bed, trying desperately to remember what comments Joff had said about each item. Joffrey always had something to say about her appearance. It had been kind of nice this last week without anyone making her feel bad for wearing cotton undies... It had been really, really nice. 

She was holding up a yellow bikini top and reconsidering her current plan when Sandor Celgane peaked in through the open door. 

“Excuse me, uh, Miss Stark?” He registered what she was holding, what was all over the bed, and then resolutely addressed his next comment to the wall behind her. “We need to get a move on. A storm is supposed to hit I-80 at Truckee around 6. Might be bad. We better leave now if we’re going to beat the weather.” As embarrassed as she was to have the entire contents of her underwear drawer on display to a man who probably thought she was an idiot, she had to admire the way Sandor was always just ...so responsible. Like her dad probably was when he was Sandor’s age. 

So she threw the whole mess into her Samsonite. If she hesitated now, the decision to stay would be made for her. Better to head out and use the 4 hours to Reno to think. 

“I’m ready!” 

**************************************************************************************

2:30 PM 

She wasn’t really ready. By the time they hit Vallejo, she was simultaneously starving, parched, and needed to pee like a mofo. The nauseous feeling had returned to her stomach and she wondered if she’d packed the right things to keep up with Joff’s expectations. And then another voice in the back of her brain chimed in ...did she even care about Joff’s expectations anymore? 

The muscle ache from the Peloton was starting to kick in and she longed to stretch her legs. She’d sat in silence behind Sandor for at least forty minutes, the last ten of which she had been trying desperately to work up the courage to tell him to pull off at the next exit and take her to a gas station or a McDonalds. But he really didn’t seem to be in the mood for a break. He hadn’t spoken to her since telling her about the storm. He’d only nodded at her “pleases” and “thank yous” as she locked up the apartment and then made their way to the Mercedes G-Class parked in the garage below the building. He’d opened the passenger door for her, and that was that last he’d looked at her. 

She cleared her throat. “Um, hey. Uh, Sandor?” 

He grunted and caught her eye in the mirror. 

“Could we maybe stop at the next exit. I need to use the facilities.” 

He snorted, relaxing his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

“The facilities? What’s a facility?” 

Ugh, it seemed like Sandor only dropped the professional facade to give her shit her nowadays. She hardly heard a heard a sincere word from the man since that night when he told her the horrifying truth about his scars. Not to mention his little joke about driving her to Seattle. 

“You know.. I mean the _restroom_ ” Sansa said. 

He snorted again, or maybe it was a laugh. He put the blinker on, moving out of out of the HOV lane to exit. “Gas is cheaper out here anyway. Five minutes.” 

True to his word, five minutes later, they were pulling into a fairly clean looking Shell station. She practically raced to the restroom. The ladies’ room smelled like bleach, but hey, that meant no germs. It was even sufficiently well-lit she could see to brush out her hair and put on a little lip gloss. 

When she exited, Sandor was standing by the entrance, two bags in hand. 

“Oh, gosh, sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Just let me grab a coke or something and I’ll--”

“No need.” He held out a bag. “Took care of it.” 

She peeked inside. A box of lemon heads and lemon LaCroix. “I’m not getting you a coke. That’s too much sugar.” 

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. Lemon’s actually my favorite.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve known you for half a decade, remember?. Let’s get out of here. Clocks ticking.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and nudged her out the door. For some reason, Sansa’s mood lifted. 

“G-wagon, g-wagon,” she hummed under her breath as they made their way to the car. 

Sandor laughed, “What’s that? You like Post Malone?I thought you only listened to DJ Joffz these days.” 

“Ugh, please!” she retorted, not quick enough on her feet to hold back her real opinion on Joff’s music. Or “music” as Arya called it. 

Sandor laughed harder. “Woah, tell me what you really think,” he teased. 

“I didn’t mean it,” she tried to recover. “I just have a wide and varied taste and it expands beyond the works of DJ Joffz, that’s all.” 

“Sure,” he replied and reached for the passenger side door. 

“If you let me sit up front, I’ll DJ. I have a whole Christmas playlist on my Spotify.” She put her hand over his to stop him. “Rap, country, pop, oldies. Anything Christmassy.” 

Sandor froze in place. Sansa was worried she’d somehow angered him, but then he gently moved his hand out from under hers and said, “Yeah, that’ll work. The seat heater works better up front anyway. You’ll be more comfortable.” 

So he walked around and got the door for her. 

****************************************************************************************

3:30pm 

The last hour had passed pleasantly. They’d made it through about half her Christmas playlist, which was really just a compilation of any song with the words “Winter,” “Christmas,” or “Snow” in the title. The songs ranged from “Blue Christmas” by Elvis, to “Christmas in Hollis,” by Run DMC. She had Arya had made it together over a few hours last holiday, their choices getting weirder the longer they worked. It turns out, Arya had eaten one of her “special brownies” before beginning the project, so no wonder the whole thing ended with something from the 80’s called “R2-D2, We Wish You A Merry Christmas,” by a children’s choir and the cast of Star Wars. She got another good laugh out of Sandor when she told him that one. 

“Your family sounds nice,” Sandor said. 

“They are.” she agreed. “Wild, but nice. I miss them. I don’t see them much.”The truth was, Joffrey hated being around her family because he had to act the part of doting boyfriend. But she couldn’t say that out loud. “We’re a lot of kids and pretty much spread out.” And then she was talking about Robb and Jon, both in grad school in NYC. And then she felt bad for talking about her family when she knew Sandor didn’t have any of his own, so then she started on about her own stint at Cal Poly, and how even after two years of study, she couldn’t decide whether to concentrate on biology or music. And then the awkward decision to drop out last June. Joff was still in SF and he’d told her he’d leave her if she didn’t make more time for him. Between studying and volleyball, she’d had almost no time for Joff back then. So she moved up to SF and started nannying for Shireen again. Of course, Sandor probably already knew all this. He’d been there for most of it. 

Regardless, he nodded along, letting her chatter away. It felt good to talk, and as long as she was talking, she wouldn’t have to think about what lay ahead. And then she started yawning every other word. Sandor raised an eyebrow. 

“Tired?” he asked her. 

“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well since…”

“Get some rest,” he said brusquely. “You know how to lean the seat back.” 

Well maybe he was sick of her chatter after all. She did as she was told, leaned the seat back, turned the heat up a bit, and closed her eyes.

“Thanks, Sandor.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

5:30 pm

Sansa woke up warm and inhaling a magnificent, masculine scent. Pine needles and worn leather. Her cheek was a bit cold from pressing against the glass and she had a slight crick in her neck from the angle, but other than that she was comfortable, as if she had slept the night in bed instead of in the passenger seat of an SUV speeding up I-80. She hadn’t slept so soundly in weeks. She fluttered her eyes just enough to notice that Sandor had tossed his leather jacket over her like a blanket. She’d curled it around herself while she slept, like a little cocoon. For a second, she couldn’t even explain it to herself.  _ Why would he do that for me? _ Heat flushed to her cheeks. She lulled like that one minute more. But something wasn’t right. 

Her eyes jerked open.

Sandor had slowed the G-class to a crawl. The windshield wipers were moving at a frantic pace. The sky outside was pitch black, the high beams only illuminating a few feet ahead. Above them, snow was tumbling interminably from the sky. From what Sansa could see, which wasn’t much, snow had built up at least a foot on the road. More on the sides. A line of cars was jammed up ahead. She could barely make out police officers in orange and yellow parkas directing each car to turn around. Not good news. 

Sandor noticed she’d awoken. “You slept all the way through Sacramento, Little Bird.” 

“Little----?” Sansa was still sleepy. What had he called her?   
  


Before she could ask, an officer approached the car and tapped on Sansa’s passenger side. 

“Good Evening, Sir, Ma’m,” the officer nodded in greeting. 

“Road’s closed. No one’s getting further east until we can get some road crews out there. It’s a mess. Not safe at all. Not even in this thing,” the officer said, the tiniest bit of admiration in his voice. “We’re turning everyone around until further notice. Last we heard, there are still some hotel rooms available in Colfax.” 

A wave of relief came over Sansa.  _ So I won’t have to see Joffrey in a few hours after all… _ In a way, it was a blessing. Ever since their trip began, she hadn’t put much thought into what she would say or do when she saw him again. It was so dependent on which Joff greeted her up on her arrival in Vegas. Would it be the fun, sweet, gentleman Joff who showered her with attention and praise? She only occasionally saw that Joff these days, usually after fights. It was as if the memory of that other person kept her glued to this relationship. Or would it be the Joff she normally got? The rude Joff. The critical Joff. The entitled Joff. The violent Joff. 

Would it be okay to tell him,  _ I don’t want to be treated this way.  _ _ You shouldn’t treat  _ **_anyone_ ** _ this way?  _ What would Joff really say to that? And then an uncomfortable voice popped up in the back of her mind.  _ Is it even safe for me to tell him that?  _

That last thought brought her mind whirring back to the man beside her.  _ Thank God for Sandor. He’d never let anything bad happen…. _

Sandor sat stony faced and silent, just inching the car forward as the waited to turn around. 

“I’m sorry you took me all this way just to have to turn around,” Sansa said. 

“I hate Reno. I hate Vegas more,” was the only answer she got in return. 

And soon enough, they were turned around, heading west down the highway. 

“Are we going back to the city?” she was almost scared to ask. Sandor didn’t seem to be in a talking mood. 

He exhaled hard through his nose. “If you want.” he said. 

“Well we could see if there’s a motel in Colfax if you’re sick of driving?” 

The stony expression on his face broke for just an instant, but he quickly regained his composure.  _ Oh god, that sounded like I was propositioning him... _ She remembered she was still snuggled into his jacket.  _ Oh wait, oh god… _

The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. She liked this man. She was attracted to this man. This man who was gentle with her. This man who teased her, cared for her, let her commandeer the radio. This man who had confided in her. This man who would listen to all the stories she could tell about her crazy, weird, family. This man who had always listened to her. How else would he remember her favorite candy? This man who kept her warm with the coat off his own back. This man who’d seen a broken girl, and offered to take her 800 miles to Seattle, to a place where she was safe and loved.  _ He wasn’t kidding… _

All the stupid shit she’d ever told him came bubbling to the surface of her brain. That time, almost a year ago, when he’d taken her to urgent care. _You’re handsome. You have so much to offer a woman. A lot of women think scars are sexy. You should get a Tinder profile._ _You’re not_ _that old_. What had she really meant when she said all that? **_Sansa_** _thinks you’re handsome. You have so much to offer ..._ ** _Sansa_** _._ ** _Sansa_** _thinks scars are sexy. You’re not too old for_ ** _Sansa_** _. You should get a Tinder profile and swipe right on_ ** _Sansa._**

“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered under her breath. This was enlightenment.

“Jesus?” Sandor looked concerned. 

“Oh… just...ummm...Happy Birthday, Jesus!” Sansa tried to laugh it off. 

Her face was burning up again and she pressed it to the cool glass. 

“You feeling okay?” Sandor asked, looking over at her, concern apparent in his slate grey eyes. 

“Umm yeah, it’s just - you know…it’s hot but it’s also…” she gestured lamely to the snow coming down outside, “kind of cold?” she faltered for anything to say. 

“No,” he said, blunt as ever. “I don’t know, but look, the Lannister family cabin is 10 minutes west. We can crash there for the night. Get you to Vegas on the Gulfstream in the morning, if we can.” 

Sansa could only gulp and nod. 

Sandor was back to concentrating on driving, so Sansa took the opportunity to open up messenger on her cell. She knew what she had to do, even if it was the type of thing her mom had always told her to do in person. 

Only one missed text. It was from Joffrey and was sent at 3:08 pm. “Be ready by 11,” it said. “Dog is picking you up to take you to Reno. Mom has the Gulfstream.” 

A thought so mean came to her head, she didn’t want to believe it originated from her own brain.  _ Is he too stupid to tell time?  _ Well, this whole “DJ Joffz” thing had started when he was rejected from every school in the area. Pretty sad, considering the money his family controlled.  _ Or was he so messed up (on Christmas Eve!!!!!) he had no idea what time of day it was? Or is he just too self centered to care? Fucking lame.  _

She opened the text box and typed: 

_ Dear Joffrey, I’m not coming to Vegas. I don’t like the way you treat me. I don’t like the way you treat others. I don’t like the way you treat yourself. Our relationship is over. Good bye.  _

She pressed send. 

And just like that, it was done. 


	5. Chapter 5

6:00 PM 

  
  


A weightless, flighty feeling had taken over Sansa’s body, almost like she would fly up to the sky if the seat belt wasn’t holding her down -- well, the seat belt and Sandor’s leather jacket, still draped down her front like a blanket. She hadn’t realized how crushing and oppressive she found the role of “Joff’s hot girlfriend,” until this moment, now that she’d quietly cast it off. Sansa wiggled her toes in her boots and tossed her phone in her bag. She didn’t even care if Joff responded. It was over, and no amount of talking was going to change things. She rolled her head back slightly and ran her fingers through her long auburn hair. It felt so good to be in her own body, all of a sudden. 

Her actions must have been less subtle than she intended, because she noticed Sandor’s eyes flick towards her and then back to the road. It sent a tiny thrill through her, right to her core, to note that she could command just a little bit of this man’s attention, without even trying.  _ Well, what could happen if I try?  _ she thought, which sent her mind reeling in exciting new directions. 

She’d never let herself think it before, but Sandor was unbelievably sexy. He was so, so tall.Tall enough he needed to push the seat back almost as far as it would go. He wasn’t lanky like some other ridiculously tall people she knew. His whole form was sculpted and well-proportioned. His thighs were clearly powerful, all muscles. Watching his right leg flex just a bit as he eased off the gas, well, that was nice.  _ Yup, those pants are bespoke…. _ She thought. No way anything off the rack was going to fit a man built like him. Huge legs, tapered waist, broad shoulders….. Her eyes traveled up. Even his forearms had definition. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves almost to his elbow. His skin was California-sun-kissed with a light dusting of dark hair. Sansa wondered what it would feel like to run her hands down arms like that.  _ Wow.  _

_ Oh god.  _ She tried to press pause on her brain. Her thoughts and her body’s reaction were hurtling out of control.  _ Calm down _ .  _ You don’t even know if he wants that from you. You have no idea what this man wants.  _ There were a million reasons why a man like Sandor would rebuff the advances of a girl like Sansa. His job, her age, the fact that while, Sandor clearly cared for her a little, it could very well be the type of care he’d give anyone dating Joff, as part of his service to the Lannisters. It had been his  _ job _ to take her to urgent care when her hand was cut, just as it was his  _ job _ to chauffeur her to Reno. The only reason he was even with her right now was because he was getting paid. As much as Sansa wished it were otherwise, the fact of the matter was, he was still a Lannister man. She was with a Lannister man, in a Lannister car, about to stay the night in a Lannister owned cabin.  _ Yeah, but look at his arms…. _

And that’s when she noticed the car was stopped, with her tongue between her teeth staring at Sandor’s forearms as he sifted the G-class into park. 

They were in the curved driveway in the shadow of an elegant wood paneled villa. 

“You okay?” he asked. “You look a little….” his voice trailed off.  _ Oh god, I look like a horny mess.  _ However she looked, Sandor didn’t bother voicing it outloud. “Let’s get you inside. Ready?” 

Sansa didn’t even know where to start.  _ Yes!! I’m more than ready! Let me jump your bones here in the driveway. No! I’m not ready. I’m embarrassingly thirsty for you and I need to calm down!! _

She swallowed hard and settled for something in between. “I have to tell you something,” the words spilled out in a rush. “I just texted Joffrey and I broke up with him. I know that sounds cruel, and know it sounds crazy when you were just going out of your way to get me to him. But I just can’t anymore and I  _ had _ to. So, I’m not really part of the Lannisters anymore. And I suppose now, you don’t  _ have _ to take care of me. I just wanted to tell you, because if you don’t want to -- “

“Okay,” he responded. “Should I leave you on the side of the highway then?” 

_ Oh god. I was just a job to him… _ her whole face went slack and the good feeling that had been running through her just seconds earlier went cold. 

Sandor broke down laughing. 

“I’m shitting you. Don’t give me that dumb cheerleader act. You have to know that I would never let you do that.” He unbuckled and reached over to take his jacket off Sansa’s lap. 

“Anway, I have something to tell you, too.” He grabbed his cell from the console and flipped through some apps on his phone. “Today was my last day.” He tossed his phone to her while he stretched to get his jacket on. “By Midnight, I won’t be a Lannister anymore either.” 

She looked at his phone. He’d pulled up a website, Three Dog CrossFit located in Emeryville, Oakland. She scrolled down to a picture with Sandor standing between two athletes almost as tall as he was. On the left was an older, white haired man and to the right, a tall blonde woman, whose physique was somewhere between “supermodel” and “WrestleMania.” The caption read: “Ray “Brother” Maribald, Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, and Brienne Tarth --- Founders of the Gym.” 

“I quit two weeks ago,” he said. “There are better things in life than cleaning up after sniveling brats like Joff. And watching a girl like you ---” he stopped abruptly. 

“A girl like me…?” Sansa asked.  _ Oh god, he hates me. He thinks I’m a brat like Joff. He thinks I’m an airhead. A rich bitch. A vain, vapid… _

  
  


“I couldn’t stand how he was treating you.” Unexpectedly, Sandor reached out his hand and touched her shoulder. “I didn’t keep you safe,” he whispered. His thumb moved in small circles on her collarbone. On instinct, she leaned her cheek to his hand, so cool she shivered. She locked eyes with him and the good feeling in her body came back with a vengeance. 

“Anyway,” he said. The moment was gone. He took his hand from her shoulder. “Fuck the Lannisters.” And he got out of the car. 

  
  


*****************************************************************************************

6:10 pm

Sansa hopped up to the front door, placing her own small feet in Sandor’s giant footprints. It didn’t help. Her sneakers were soaked the second she got out of the car. Her leggings were wet almost to her knees. 

Sandor punched in a code on the lock and the door swung open. They both tumbled inside, and He fumbled for the lights. 

“Woah, they call this a cabin?” Sansa was amazed. The interior was anything but rustic. Of course the Lannisters would be the types to own a luxe Tahoe villa, featuring a huge open floor plan, plush carpets and faux fur throws everywhere you looked. One huge fireplace wrapped around the far corner, taking up the better part of two walls. The back wall was almost all glass and looked out onto a snow-covered deck. Beyond that, just trees, and she supposed, the lake, although it was too dark and snowy to see. To the other side, a spiral staircase led up to the second level. 

“Thank fucking god the Lannisters don’t mind spending money,” Sandor muttered. “This place is winterized, even though the family doesn’t come up here anymore.” Sandor was fiddling with the Nest climate control. “Let’s get some heat going.” 

Sansa could hear the forced air rumble to life within the walls. Sandor put his hand on the small of her back and turned her towards the fireplace. “That’s gas,” he said. “Think you can start it while I turn on the main water valve?” 

Sansa nodded, knowing she wasn’t completely useless. Sandor left out the front door, before she could remind him to please grab her bag. She hated being wet and cold, but at least it gave her a good excuse to change clothes. Maybe she could slip into something better suited to seduction. Sandor definitely didn’t hate her and he probably thought she was attractive, if his subtle touches and glances were anything to go by, but she would feel a lot more confident in say, a gold mini-dress, than she did in wet leggings and an old Cal Poly hoodie.

Within two minutes, the fire was roaring. She neatly laid out her socks and shoes nearby, hoping they would dry before tomorrow. The only other shoes she’d brought were her Louboutins. 

Soon enough, Sandor was lumbering in through the front door again, carrying both his backpack and her luggage. His pants were soaked past his knees and his hair had bits of snow in it. 

“Waters on.” he announced. “Brought your bag.” 

“Thanks, “ she replied, looking back at him over her shoulder, “I’m all wet.” Men liked cheesy double entendres, right? 

“You're ...huh?” Sandor’s eyes were glazed for a second. “Go change. Bedrooms are all upstairs.” 

“You’re wet, too.” She walked closer and flicked her eyes up and down his form. 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t you think you better get out of those clothes?” 

She hoped she looked seductive, walking towards him, illuminated by the fire behind her. She ran her fingers through her hair, starting at the temples, arched her back and stretched. He’d seemed to like that move well enough in the car. 

“Mmm, yeah,” he said, a dazed quality in his voice. She was close enough that when she leaned forward to grab her bag from his hand, she let the tips of her breasts brush against his arm. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she grabbed her bag and scampered up the steps. 


End file.
